


eternity will be born from hope

by isabellaofcastile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Romance, Student Yuri Katsuki, Teacher Victor Nikiforov, VIKTOR IS A GRADUATE TEACHING ASSISTANT NOT A PROFESSOR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12960981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabellaofcastile/pseuds/isabellaofcastile
Summary: in which jaded graduate student Viktor meets insecure, but gifted Yuuritogether they discover more than what it means to "create"





	eternity will be born from hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzyisozaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/gifts).



Yuuri had avoided going to office hours for weeks. 

His literature class’ teaching assistant had quite generous times in which he was in his office to help students, but Yuuri always found reasons to avoid going, despite finding the latest book his class was assigned particularly challenging. Over the years of poor teachers and professors, his writing abilities had become jaded. When he once felt himself a strong, confident writer, his matriculation into college overwhelmed him and affected his writing style. The demands were different, and it seemed that nothing Yuuri had to say was worth saying. That, or he just couldn’t express himself effectively. One would think that with these challenges, a student would be overjoyed at the atypically large amount of time that this teaching assistant had set aside for his students, but Yuuri found the possibility nerve-wracking, becoming skilled in finding ways to avoid going purely out of anxiety. 

There were two reasons that he was so afraid. First, this TA graded papers hard. He wasn’t the type to underline what he liked and cross out what he didn’t, adding passive aggressive question marks to statements that needed further explanation. He was the type of TA who took his time reading his student’s essays, making small notes on the margins, almost suffocating the paper with the sheer amount he wrote. Sometimes, Yuuri and his roommate had to take a magnifying glass to the papers and decipher what some of the scribbles were trying to say. 

But, the second reason that he was so afraid was because he had yet to reconcile the fact that he, a student, was helplessly crushing on his teaching assistant. The cliché of it all was enough to make Yuuri recoil, wanting nothing to do with it all together for fear that he would make a fool of himself, and possibly waste his TA’s time. But, the semester’s end was nearing. Yuuri still had his term paper to write for this course, and knew that as a sort of insurance for his grade, he ought to go see his TA for help. His professor was perpetually busy, the class being larger than other literature courses, and had explicitly said that he doesn’t reply to emails that his TA can answer. Unsure of what that really meant, Yuuri just… avoided speaking to him all together. 

Which brings him to the present moment, where he stands outside of his TA’s door, palm sweating in a loose fist, inches from the door as if to knock, but remaining in midair. He urged himself to just knock-- maybe he wasn’t there! Maybe he stepped out for coffee! “No,” Yuuri thought. “Just knock. You need to get this paper looked over, you need to get a good grade.”

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri’s fist just barely touched the door when it was pulled open. Only inches taller than he, but his presence making him seem much taller, Yuuri’s TA looked down in surprise at the student blocking his way, something he didn’t expect to see when he opened the door. 

“Oh, hello!” Yuuri’s TA, Viktor, said, stepping back and greeting Yuuri with a bright, welcoming smile. He stood in the door’s frame, hands on its sides and head tilted with curiosity. His eyes were kind, their eyelashes adding to his already striking visage that occupied Yuuri’s thoughts every time he taught their discussion section, and moreso now that he was face to face with him. “Are you here to see me?” 

Clutching his papers in his hand, he gulped, sheepishly nodding. “I-I was just hoping that you would be able to skim over this for me. To… uh… make sure that it makes sense so far.” 

Then, checking his watch, he motioned for Yuuri to come into his closet of an office, and sat him in the old rolling chair next to him. Before them, a small desk with a bulky desktop computer, a small picture frame, and an old coffee cup atop a crinkled napkin, a pastry wrapper crushed to its side. 

“So,” he began. “Yuuri. Correct? What can I do for you? You said you just wanted me to glance over this?” 

“Oh, yes…” Yuuri replied. “I didn’t do so well on the last paper, so I want to be sure that I understand better what is expected of me.” 

Smiling in affirmation, he took the papers in his hands, tapped them on the desk, and began to read. Yuuri scratched at his hands, feeling self-conscious as he sat next to Viktor. He could see his eyes narrow and loosen as he read, his silver hair barely obscuring his grey-blue eyes. He noticed the times where his slender hands would lift and move it behind his ear. Sweat bead on Yuuri’s back as he watched. After a few minutes, when he finally finished reading, he sat the papers down then turned to Yuuri. 

“I think that you’re just one draft away.” 

This, with the looming deadline for the paper, sent a shiver of anxiety up Yuuri’s spine. 

“One… draft?” He asked, eyebrows knitting in inquisition, hoping that Viktor had more of an explanation. He wanted to be given a burst of inspiration, to be told that his ideas weren’t all bad, to just fix something here and there. Not that it was an entire rewrite away from being where it ought to be. 

“Yes, see… you address the prompt perfectly! You checked off all the boxes. Which is good. But…” he said, his voice trailing off, looking down at the paper. He picked it back up, tapping it now on his lap as he faced Yuuri. “I sense that you overthought this.” 

Overthinking? How was I overthinking it? Wasn’t I supposed to just… answer the question?

He went on to explain certain points in Yuuri’s writing that he felt could use improvement. A quote here, more elaboration there. He scribbled in red, putting asterisks in points that needed improvement, circling words he thought were a good choice. All the while, Yuuri struggled to keep his eyes on the paper. Over his glasses, his gaze trailed up and down Viktor’s strong, confident face. His lips curled into a sweet smile as he talked about the book Yuuri wrote of, the troughs of his eyes and strong nose lending a sort of mature air to him that Yuuri found irresistible. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked, bringing Yuuri’s attention back down to his paper. His face reddened with embarrassment at Viktor noticing Yuuri’s longing stares. 

“Oh, yes! Sorry, just… tired.” 

Chuckling, Viktor handed the paper back to Yuuri, brushing their hands as he let the pages go. “Give this another look, then come back to see me, okay?” 

Thoroughly insecure, but relatively more inspired to write something worthy of Viktor’s time, he left that day only marginally more confident in himself. Clutching the papers in his hand, the door closing gently behind him, he began to make his way down the hall and out the building. Walking out the stairwell door, a yawn escaped him, and was drawn to the small, drab coffee stand that occupied no more than 200 square feet. They sold coffee, and nothing else. With the amount of work he had for the rest of the night, Yuuri indulged himself in a late-afternoon coffee, something he had sworn not to give himself as his sleep schedule was precious to him, but needed to be abandoned as his schoolwork relented. Suddenly, though, he felt a presence next to him. Looking up, it was Viktor! (“Where did he come from?” Yuuri thought to himself.) Taken aback, Yuuri couldn’t tell if he was there on purpose, or if it had been merely a coincidence that they ended up here at the same time. 

“Oh, hi, Yuuri! Would you like a coffee?” Viktor asked as they noticed each other, a crinkled bill between his fingers, the sullen cashier waiting for his decision. 

“Sure… thank you,” Yuuri replied. Viktor asked for two coffees, promptly receiving two paper cups identical to the one on his desk. Yuuri held his warm cup in his hands, letting the steam curl up and around his nose, the prospect of not being so exhausted enticing him to take a sip. 

“Y’know…” Viktor began as they both turned to walk from the stand and out of the quiet building. Swallowing his sip, Yuuri looked up at Viktor. “Your other paper wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. If it were up to me, I’d have given you a higher grade.” 

Choking on his drink, Yuuri turned in shock. “Really?!” 

In response, Viktor began, “The theory that you used to analyze the relationship between the protagonists… it was really poignant. I hadn’t thought of connecting those two ideas before!” He continued, “Or, so I thought,” placing emphasis whenever he referred to himself. “Your professor disagreed with me. He didn’t like how you used it. We argued, but ultimately, he had the final say.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Yuuri slouched over. “Ah… jeez. I can’t believe it. I worked so hard on that paper…” 

“No, don’t worry!” Viktor said, placing a gentle, understanding hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri looked up, wanting to bottle the feeling of Viktor’s hand on his shoulder, and met his gaze. There was an ache in his eyes that Yuuri couldn’t quite place. His first instinct was that it was yearning; that maybe he went out of his way to meet Yuuri and buy him a coffee, that it wasn’t all just a coincidence. 

“Really, it was just one paper. I’m sure you’ll do well on the next one!” His freshly-balmed lips rounded into a knowing smile, moving away from Yuuri’s shoulder and back to his cup. 

The coffee was useless, now, as Viktor’s touch energized him more than any cup of coffee ever would. 

**

Yuuri finished several days later with what he thought was one of his best papers. Emailing Viktor to confirm he was coming to revise one last time, he replied by asking if Yuuri wanted to meet at a location. “I want to get out of my office! Do you mind?” He said. 

_Almost like a study date… no, no!_ Yuuri found himself thinking, his attraction to Viktor getting the best of him. _It’s purely out of convenience! Who would want to spend all that time in that stuffy office, anyways?_

Meeting at a quaint shop off campus, Yuuri arrived early purely out of nervousness. He thought, he was just going to hopelessly ruminate, alone, in his dorm up until when he would have left, had he _not_ been so anxious. At least this way, Yuuri could buy them coffees and find a good table to sit at. Yuuri sat at a table with his papers spread out after buying his drink. Viktor arrived a few minutes late, looking somewhat disheveled, but looked around and brightened when he noticed Yuuri. 

“You bought me a cup?” He asked, tossing his messenger bag on the seat next to him as he pulled out a chair and sat down. 

“Mmhm, to repay you for last time.” 

The late afternoon sun spilled in the window, soaking into Viktor’s porcelain skin, but failing to hide the tender red blush that appeared on his cheeks. He smiled, thanking Yuuri, then took a big sip while sorting through his bag. Yuuri loved the gentle expression on his face when he placed the cup down on the table, noticing the way that his Adam’s apple moved up and down his throat when he swallowed. Then turning, looking slightly frustrated, he used both hands to dig out a pen and pad of paper. He exclaimed a gentle “Ah, here…” to himself after flipping through the pages in his notebook, landing on a page with lots of notes, some in English that Yuuri noticed, others on the margins, followed by question marks, in what he thought might be Russian. Yuuri did the same in class when he had to take notes quickly—write as much as he can in English, clarify on the side in Japanese. There was an air of thoughtfulness and busyness to Viktor that Yuuri found inspiring. 

“Alright!” Viktor said, his hands now in open fists on the table. “Show me what you’ve got.” 

Yuuri collected the papers that he had spread out over the table, picking out the most recent copy of his essay, and placed it in Viktor’s hands. Viktor then leaned back in his chair, cup in one hand, essay in another. Yuuri sat, waiting, as Viktor read. The papers were obscuring most of what Yuuri could see of him, only seeing his eyes scanning each page, narrowing and opening up as he read. About half-way through, Viktor put his cup down and put a finger to his mouth, deep in thought. He would stop to occasionally consult his own notes, but seemed more engrossed in reading Yuuri’s writing than anything. 

Yuuri found these small things about him endearing, though they were the only things he knew about Viktor, in reality. They hadn’t spoken more than a few times in passing, in office hours, and through email. Yuuri’s desire for Viktor was aching, but he accepted that it was entirely possible nothing would ever come of his pining. Even still, the seed of doubt was planted in his mind by how kind Viktor was to him. Other students commented that they didn’t get nearly as many comments on their essays as Yuuri, and found it strange how his essays were consistently toward the top of the stack whenever they were handed back, though his initials weren’t anywhere near the beginning of the alphabet. In his insecurity, Yuuri didn’t really think much of these things, amounting them to strange coincidences and for Viktor’s love of literature, but still felt from Viktor something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. What was it? If not coincidence, why was he treating Yuuri differently than others? Why did he dedicate so much time to helping Yuuri? Was he _really_ worth it? 

Lost in the maze of his own thoughts, Yuuri stared out the window and onto the street, sipping occasionally at his drink—a small cappuccino. He didn’t notice when Viktor placed the papers down, about to begin discussing with Yuuri his thoughts but instead, saying nothing, suddenly smitten with Yuuri’s profile as he stared out the window. Viktor hadn’t ever felt any kind of affection toward his students beyond gratitude to those who were punctual and courteous, but Yuuri had stood out to him—not only was his beauty, modest yet angelic, alluring to Viktor, but his talent and intelligence was equally as magnetic, in spite of his diffident presence when in situations that disagreed with his reserved nature. 

Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, Viktor tapped Yuuri’s shoulder. His head turned around to face Viktor, the early-evening sunset illuminating his bourbon brown eyes and accentuating his gentle cheekbones. He had his drink in one hand, his head just above the other hand that his head just been resting in, and a small line of foamed milk on his lip that he obviously hadn’t noticed. There was an endearing innocence in how his eyelids hung sleepily over his eyes, and Viktor laughed, remarking a quiet “Let me get that for you…” as he wiped the cream off of his mouth with his thumb. An obstinate blush grew up Yuuri’s neck and cheeks, eyes wide and awake now, as Viktor licked it off his thumb, maintaining eye contact with Yuuri the entire time. Yuuri couldn’t articulate exactly what he was feeling, his train of thought about the dynamic between he and Vitkor interrupted by what was hard to misinterpret as an obvious attempt at flirting. Even though he was 23-years-old, he still found himself reacting much like that of a teenager, awaiting the day where their sexuality is awakened, uninhibited by the ignorance of what it’s like to be touched by another. Today, apparently, was that day. Still staring in surprise, his mind racing in thousands of different directions, Viktor let out a gentle laugh as he wiped his moist thumb on a napkin. With a gentle grunt, he swallowed his drink and licked his lips. _What is this sudden change? Why does the room feel so different now?_

“Are you ready to discuss? I think that this is your best work yet!” He said, excitedly, motioning for Yuuri to turn to him. 

Rubbing his eyes from under his glasses, Yuuri laughed and smiled nervously, turning back to Viktor as he placed the essay in front of him. He placed it such that it was upside down to him, allowing Yuuri to read as he pointed to certain paragraphs and phrases. Though he made a few comments, Viktor explained that he wasn’t at liberty to grade it then and there, but with a wink, said it was in a good place to turn in. Groaning with relief, Yuuri doubled over the table, exclaiming a gentle “Thank God” to himself. The paper had been haunting him for weeks, and it was finally over. 

As they collected their things and left the shop, Viktor asked if they could walk together. He lived in the same direction, and thought that they were familiar enough with each other at this point to enjoy one another outside the context of school. They exchanged niceties, Yuuri explaining his workload for the rest of the semester and expressing his gratitude to Viktor, and Viktor reflecting it with an explanation of his own work load, that he could empathize with Yuuri. Being a graduate student was hard, but in different ways than being an undergraduate, he explained. 

Yuuri didn’t feel as if he could open up completely to Viktor, but nevertheless felt something about him bring out a new sort of self-assurance. His charisma and intelligence enthralling, the way that he carried himself so beautiful; his brown pea coat and black turtle neck complimented his strong and confident frame, making him an imposing edifice in a world that relied so heavily on quiet subservience. Yuuri wanted to be enveloped in everything that made Viktor who he was, to better understand what it meant to “confident”. He wanted to match, possibly even surpass, Viktor’s creativity and intelligence, to be as enigmatic and astonishing as he was. He wanted to find the beauty in himself and show it to the world. 

But, as they walked, Yuuri absorbed in the aura of Viktor, Viktor couldn’t help but want to just touch Yuuri. Only a few inches shorter than he, Yuuri had a modest but striking beauty to him. He liked the warmth of Yuuri’s hands the few times that they touched, and liked even _more_ the way that Yuuri’s lips felt under his thumb when he wiped his mouth off earlier. He had a kind and sweet aura, despite the stress that made him look so perpetually tense. But, It was the class that he taught that allowed them to connect in the first place, and the work that he and Yuuri did on his essay that began to bring Viktor back to himself. He was different than other students, inspiring him in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had spent so much time in academia, thinking the only way to succeed was shunning others and cultivating his own prestige. But, with Yuuri, it was different. He began to let go of the parts of his ego which wouldn’t let anyone in, and realized that he could find inspiration in ways he didn’t create out of a desire to be “the best”. He had been accepted to his Master’s with jubilation, but nearing its end, felt something lacking in his work, in how he approached that which had fueled him for so long. Reading Yuuri’s writing, Viktor realized, allowed him to see the life and love he neglected in his pursuit of prestige. Yuuri approached his writing with the kind of soul that Viktor knew his writing lacked, and found Yuuri’s rhetorical abilities far more advanced and beautiful than he’d ever admit to himself. As they approached Viktor’s stop, he had a thought, ending what was a comfortable silence between them. 

“Yuuri, you still have a semester left, correct?” 

“Ah, yes, I do. Why?”

Shifting his whole body to face Yuuri, he grabbed his shoulders and exclaimed, “Be my research assistant next semester!” 

His glasses askew from Viktor shifting him, Yuuri’s mouth opened as if to protest, but couldn’t speak. 

“W-what?!” He said, struggling under Viktor’s grasp to fix his glasses. 

“I have to finish writing my thesis next semester, and I love how you write. It is paid, you will get credit, be able to put it on your resume, yadda-yadda...” Viktor began explaining. “I was told to choose someone to be my assistant, and after reading your work today, I decided to choose you.” 

“ _Me?_ ” Yuuri asked, his face contorted in confusion and disbelief that Viktor would think that he was more than a mediocre writer, at best. 

“Who else, then?” 

“Well, I don’t know… I haven’t exactly done the best in this class, and I’ve done even worse on the reading quizzes…” 

“Those don’t matter to me, really. Not only are you passing, but _anyone_ can read and regurgitate! You, Yuuri, you surprise me, and your writing is so beautiful to me,” he said. “Even if you don’t believe it, it’s true. I would love to have you research with me.” 

The look of astonishment beginning to soften, stubborn blush subsiding to a gentle red on the apples of his cheeks, and a smile creeping across his ample pink lips, he nodded in affirmation. Yuuri’s love for writing, for literature, had finally been validated; someone had finally reached the place where he stood, alone. The aimlessness he felt in waves throughout college finally meeting a force that could calm them; now knowing the time he spent in quandary of his self-worth wasn’t for naught, and that he might amount to more than his insecurities, Viktor’s proposition awakened in Yuuri a confidence that through this relationship, could finally be cultivated into the love he wanted so desperately to share with the world. 

*** 

Months later, now a new semester, Viktor moved offices so that he and Yuuri could share a research space. Yuuri registered for the class as an independent study, which he needed in order to graduate. Viktor’s request to him to be his research assistant couldn’t have come at a better time, Yuuri thought. He felt himself connecting and opening up with Viktor quickly as they set up their shared office space, which was an office just a few square feet bigger than Viktor’s old one, but with two desks instead of one. These desks faced each other, perpendicular to a couch which was placed against a wall, just below a large window, solemnly occupied by a large air conditioning unit, but whose clarity was obscured by old, tall trees, branches scratching against the window as the wind flowed through its branches. The light poured into their office in inconsistent patterns, formed by the negative space of the leaves on the trees outside this window. There was an aura of warmth here that affirmed to Yuuri he had made the right decision. 

Though still residing within the loose roles of student and teacher, the two became closer with each other through their mutual love for their research, and the inspiration that they found in one another. They loved the increasing familiarity that they shared by having an office together. Though neither spoke it, the feeling of warmth and solace that had built itself around them was mutual, assembled by the unspoken love that they shared for each other; it was felt when occasionally stealing glances at each other from across their computer monitors, when finding playful sticky notes around each other’s desks, and during impassioned, yet playful, bickering that erupted they discussed their research and found a point in which they disagreed. 

 

Finishing their work one day, Yuuri leaned back in his chair and stretched, letting out a hearty yawn and scratching his stomach as it curved against the back of the chair. Viktor noted a similar level of exhaustion in himself, the late February darkness signaling to the two men that they ought to go home, as the glare of their computer screens had become intolerable and their knees ached for movement. Walking out together, Viktor locking the door behind them, they navigated out the building like they had for the past month or so. The cold air greeted them rudely, creeping in their jackets, up their arms and under their scarves. Each exclaimed at the cold, laughing at the way they spoke at the same time. They typically walked through a small park on their way home, talking about whatever they saw, perhaps even recapping what they had just done that day, but nevertheless enjoying the way they felt next to one another. As they walked through this park, Viktor stopped. Below him was a bench, screwed to the ground at an overlook which oversaw the vibrant downtown they had just left. It wasn’t comparable to any metropolis that Viktor or Yuuri had ever known in their hometowns, but was striking nonetheless. Viktor stood near the bench, noting the way that the wind felt on his scalp and the way that it moved his hair. 

Yuuri stood and watched Viktor, who had a contemplative but satisfied look on his face, as if he had finally come to be at peace with something. Yuuri commented at how pretty it was at this time of night as they stood there, admiring the city. The sun had just set, whispers of the sun painted in the sky as to mark that it had been there, but would be back soon. A pause entered their conversation, but was broken when Viktor began a thought with an inquisitive “Yuuri?” 

Yuuri turned to him, but didn’t meet his glance. As Viktor stay looking over the city, he asked, “Do you have any lovers?” 

_Lovers?! Me? What do I say? I mean, I don’t, but why is he asking?_! 

“I-I… No comment!” was all he could muster. He wasn’t embarrassed, but flattered at Viktor’s inquisition. He just wasn’t sure of the implications of his answers, much less Viktor’s motive for asking, so opted to say nothing. Closing his eyes for a brief second, placing his head at an angle and letting out a quick but understanding sigh, Viktor turned to Yuuri. 

“Shall we go, then?” he asked, then motioned for them to keep walking. The silence between them felt different, with Viktor lamenting at how exactly to express his attraction to Yuuri in a way where he wouldn’t become uncomfortable. There wasn’t any animosity, but rather a quiet frustration. They wanted one another, but hadn’t found the right time, it seemed. Albeit unexpected, it was back in their office that they had finally reached one another. 

 

It had been a few days since Viktor asked Yuuri about his relationship status, his first real attempt at cultivating the romance between them, and while the air between them felt different, it certainly didn’t feel bad. 

As part of his own independent study, which paralleled Viktor’s thesis, Yuuri had to check in with Viktor and be sure that the route his paper was taking was suitable. They were writing on the same book, which they agreed over dinner one day was their absolute favorite, and had simply taken different approaches to the themes were in the book. As Yuuri sat next to Viktor that day, he wasn’t as nervous as he had in the past when Viktor was reading his writing, but was still anxious nonetheless, Viktor’s typical jovial presence becoming ever so slightly more highbrow whenever critiquing Yuuri’s work. 

But, despite Yuuri’s quiet anxiousness, Viktor sensed from him a new ambience that he hadn’t noticed before as they sat, thigh against thigh. The insecurity that typically wrinkled itself in Yuuri’s face had softened, a new confidence in the way that he comfortably sat looking over Viktor’s shoulder. As he read, he found Yuuri’s latest draft as fascinating and beautiful as the last paper of Yuuri’s that he graded, if not, better. He was surprised by the chances that he was taking in his claims, even more bold than he had seen him write before, the ways that he integrated technical theories that caused him trouble before, now written effortlessly between his near-poetic analysis of the text itself. Viktor was overwhelmed that someone understood this text the way he did, overjoyed that Yuuri could take something which brought him so much joy and frame it in a way he knew truly deserving. He felt like a composer, overcome with the euphoria of his orchestra’s unabashed beauty and the way that they responded to his cues, giving life to that which would otherwise remain on paper. 

As Viktor read, Yuuri thought to himself that even if there were mistakes, he was particularly proud of this draft. He had worked so hard on it and found himself writing uninhibited of Viktor’s expectations; he wanted to defy them, whatever they were, and to surprise Viktor. He had always told Yuuri that his ultimate goal for writing was to surprise those who read his works, and Yuuri wanted to match that. He wanted to write something worthy of Viktor’s time. As Viktor finished, leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his face. His cheeks felt red and hot, a mix of the fluster that he felt when noticing Yuuri look at him, and a mixing pot of indiscernible feelings for Yuuri’s writing. Was it pride? No, Viktor did not play as large a hand in Yuuri’s growth as he may have thought. This was Yuuri, pure and unequivocal. 

No, this… this is love, Viktor told himself. Love for Yuuri and the extension of himself that he let propagate in his writing, in Viktor’s love for this story, in the way that Yuuri compelled Viktor to finally look at himself, not who he was as a student or teacher, but as a human that craves beauty. Unsure of exactly what Viktor’s reaction meant when he finally looked up from the papers, Yuuri exclaimed, “It’s good, isn’t it, Viktor? Didn’t I do great?” 

Acknowledging him as he said this, his hands moved away, a focused yet longing expression grew in his stubbly face. He looked at Yuuri for just a moment, feeling the air in the room shift, Viktor’s eyes beginning to sparkle and glisten. From his chair, Viktor leapt out and onto Yuuri, placing their lips firmly together. Letting out a nervous shout the moment before their lips met, Yuuri’s rolling chair fell over with the weight, and he and Viktor both fell to the ground. The early evening light spilt over the two as they collapsed to the ground, giving them a golden aura. Viktor yearned to drink in Yuuri’s essence, breathing deep and heavy as he lay on top of him; Yuuri noted that his perfumed lip balm was a friendly presence on his lips, his inhibitions and fear finally dissipating with the realization of what was really happening. As they pulled apart, Viktor exclaimed, “I couldn’t think of any other way to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.” 

Feeling overwhelmed with Viktor’s affection, his unabashed validation, his love, Yuuri stared at Viktor in disbelief for a moment after they parted. A warmth grew from his chest and expanded throughout his body, their hot breaths teeming with lust and desire. Soon, his hands gripped Viktor’s shirt to pull him back in. He relished in the feeling of Viktor’s lips on his own, the way that Viktor further reciprocated Yuuri’s kiss by running his long, slender fingers through Yuuri’s dense, brown hair. If this is what it felt like to be wanted, then Yuuri wanted more. He pulled Viktor in closer and closer, their noses comically squishing together, but the way their bodies melded together saying to the other, _“Oh, there you are.”_ Yuuri moved his glasses from his face, as Viktor’s nose kept bumping into them, and moved his hands to Viktor’s neck, running them up his chest, feeling how strong and warm it was as his hands met the base of his neck, the soft silver tufts of his hair curling between his fingers. His hands ventured to Viktor’s waist, running his hands across the pooch of Viktor’s stomach, noting the trail of hair that formed a path from his belly button. Viktor’s hands grazed up Yuuri's waist and to his chest, a quiet gasp escaping his mouth as he further explored the curves of his own body. 

Viktor couldn’t help but touch all over Yuuri, the unspoken attraction between the two finally coming to a climax as they lay on the grimy floor, laughing and ignoring the cliché of it all. He twirled Yuuri’s hair in his hands, then running them down his neck and up his shirt, clutching the small of his waist and pulling him as close as he could to his own body. Kissing more and more, Viktor loved how supple Yuuri’s lips were, noting their softness as he ran his tongue across them. He smelt fresh and sweet, a gentle musk in his skin mixing with the smell of his laundry detergent. His stomach and back were soft and warm, Viktor noticed, feeling the whisper of stretch marks on his lower waist and lovingly running his hands across them. Yuuri let out a quiet gasp as he did this, parting their lips for just a second, but not long enough to keep them from going back in to each other, yearning for more and more, and pushing what it meant for them to give. All this, catalyzed by the touch of the other, made the two feel as though they were the only people in the world. All the time that they spent pining after one another, only to find out this way that their affections for the other were equal, was wonderful, warm, and sticky with kisses.

They pulled apart again, panting with eagerness. They seemed to share the thought of what this may look like if someone walked in, and shared a moment of laughter. Viktor’s jovial voice echoed throughout the small room, and Yuuri covered his mouth to stifle his, but to no avail. Through their laughs, Viktor began to speak: “Your draft is perfect, by the way. I was hoping that you could tell by now!” He smoothed his hair back against his head, moving his head back and gazing down at Yuuri, his face just barely glowing with a mixture of sweat and glee.

His face sore from laughing and smiling, Yuuri pulled Viktor back toward him. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, feeling Viktor’s cheeks pressed against his as he embraced him. Though it was hard, Viktor hugged him back in spite of their uncomfortable position. Yuuri finally felt a force which was strong enough to burden the anxieties he had fought alone, realizing the naivety of doing so in the first place. And Viktor, knowing that Yuuri was someone who could help to shoulder the burden of his own ego that weighed him down for so long finally allowed him to recognize and concede to the value inherent to his existence which he had compartmentalized; he himself was enough, and Yuuri wanted nothing more than what he could give in that moment. Without saying so, he told Viktor to let go of who he thought he was, and to accept who _he_ is. 

 

“I guess I’ll get off of you now,” Viktor remarked, pushing himself from the ground after their embrace, wiping the front of his clothes and straightening his disheveled shirt and pants. Yuuri began to get up shortly after, his tummy poking out through his shirt as he struggled to unwrap himself from the chair and lift his body. When finally off of the ground, Yuuri picked the chair up and pushed it back under his desk. He felt Viktor watching him as he did this, and when he finished wiping the dirt off the back of his pants, met Viktor’s glance. He didn’t think much of it, now feeling at home with Viktor’s presence and gaze. 

“Hey, do I have anything on my back?” He asked, picking his glasses up from the ground. Laughing, Viktor motioned for him to turn around. He wiped the back of Yuuri’s back, loving the way that his cardigan and shirt hugged his tiny frame. He wanted to touch him more, but knew that they may get there, eventually. When he turned back around, Yuuri was wiping his glasses off with the edge of his cardigan’s fabric, looking through them to see if they were clear enough. Placing them back on his face, Yuuri saw Viktor anew, though anyone who was pounced on like he had would see that person differently; he didn’t quite see Viktor as a superior, or even as his partner. He saw Viktor as a sort of muse, but one that wasn’t meant to sit atop a pedestal. As a muse, he was meant to be interacted with, to be read and reread and to be parleyed to see the world anew. Viktor, feeling the same and saying nothing, savored the taste of Yuuri in his mouth as he let the euphoria of their kiss coat all of his senses. He felt young, rejuvenated—he wanted to take on the world with this newly replenished ardor for literature, to share his love with anyone willing to accept it, to find new ways to surprise the world that he felt so desperately needed surprising. Between them, now, was a new kind of familiarity that transcended any relationship that they may have had in the past: it went beyond the trivial infatuation that so often accompanied a burgeoning partnership, but still existed as a budding flower, pure and unwanting, only knowing how to grow. 

 

As they walk out of their office, the near-empty building allowing them to go arm in arm, they both felt they deserved a break (and, maybe, a bit of caffeine), and took solace in knowing that the sun wasn’t going down quite yet-- that the best was yet to come.

**Author's Note:**

> HI EVERYONE this is a commission piece for izzyisozaki!! i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> as a cultural note i guess: in american universities we have teaching assistants, which are not professors. they are usually graduate students who grade essays and exams for professors in fields that they are earning masters degrees in. this way the age dynamic between viktor and yuuri would work out logically! 
> 
> i will also be updating CBU very soon! i am nearly done with finals and i'm sooooo excited to begin updating it more frequently!!! 
> 
> follow me on twitter to hear about more YOI stuff! @isaBELLUH97 :-)


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